


it's a brew-tiful day (to meet a cute barista)

by haleofStilesheart



Series: the Birds and the Beans [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Barista Castiel (Supernatural), Coffee Shops, First Meetings, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Meet-Cute, Tattooed Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 08:23:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11802204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: Dean will never understand how Sam can drink those fancy, hoity-toity lattes and macchiatos. But he can definitely understand why his favorite cafe is the up the street from the garage, the Birds and the Beans, because that barista Cas is freaking gorgeous. (Basically mechanic!Dean and barista!Cas fall in love over a shared love of music)





	it's a brew-tiful day (to meet a cute barista)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charlesdk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesdk/gifts).



> For the prompt:

Dean would never understand how Sam could drink all those fancy, over-complicated, hoity-toity iced coffees and skinny lattes or whatever the hell they were called.

The damn things cost like seven bucks for a small, or 'tall' at those pretentious coffee shops Sam liked to frequent. That money could be used for much better, more important things like gassing up the Impala or a nice freshly baked pie.

And every time Dean had humored his little brother and tried the douchey hipster drinks, they had tasted absolutely awful. Like someone had dumped a whole container of ground cinnamon in some too weak coffee then tossed in some kind of almond skim milk that was basically just water.

They were just plain gross. Why they were such a hit with almost everybody else on the face of the earth would forever be a mystery to him. What was wrong with regular coffee?

Despite his moral objections to the frilly, overly expensive drinks it was his turn to fetch coffee for all the guys, and girls, at the garage which happened to include Sam that day. Still working on getting his bachelor's degree before transferring to Stanford for law school, Sam had decided to work on his essay for his gen-ed history class at the garage.

They had been rather busy that day, at least busier than usual with a few new clients coming in for the first time. While he, Bobby, and John had been restoring a 1969 Camaro, Benny and Jo had been working on fixing up an obnoxiously bright red Porsche that had gotten its brake lines cut, its extensive paint job all keyed up, and its headlights smashed.

It was like something out of a Carrie Underwood song, Garth had informed them with a bright laugh. He was the newest addition to the garage, helping Charlie out with the financials and the brand new website that she had assured them would bring in new customers.

Around two o'clock, Bobby announced that it was break time and they could all use some coffee, checking the handwritten schedule on the wall to see whose turn it was to make the run. It was Dean's of course, making him groan when Sam had requested some coffee himself, immediately rattling off some ridiculous order that Dean had to jot down on an old McDonald's napkin he found lying around on a cluttered desk in the virtually unused office.

Not wanting to forget anyone else's order like he had the first time it had been his turn, still remembering the pout Charlie had given him, he scribbled the rest down. With a stiff salute that only Charlie returned, Dean was off, walking down the block to the best local coffee shop around, the Birds and the Beans.

It was a popular spot for locals due to its large variety and high quality of coffee along with its affordability, their prices nearly half of what larger chains like Starbucks charged. Its cozy, inviting atmosphere didn't hurt either.

Inside, it had brick walls covered in chalkboards advertising specials and new varieties, warm lighting giving it a homey feel. Unlike most cafes and coffee shops, they encouraged people to stay for long periods of time, the place filled with comfy couches and armchairs

On top of that, along with the myriad types of coffee it served, the coffee shop had a bakery that made everything from coffee cake muffins to cannoli to a dozen different kinds of pie, sold both by the slice and whole. It was because of that fact that Dean had become a loyal customer after the coffee shop opened about three or four months prior.

The others at the garage seemed to enjoy it too, evident by the fact that most days when they took their lunch break they ordered the freshly made sandwiches the coffee shop offered. Other times, they would just purchase a dozen or so donuts for lunch, lauding the fried treat the best they had ever had, even Sam who was apparently a vegetarian now.

Usually, the Birds and the Beans had a lull in customers around two, which made it perfect for the garage's lunch, but when Dean walked in it was to find a line. The bell on the door rang cheerfully as he took his place in line behind five others, four guys and a young woman.

All five of them looked like poster boys, and poster girl, for the word 'hipster' in their flannels and ironic t-shirts and nonprescription glasses. The guy immediately in front of Dean was wearing three scarves, in late summer.

He bet at least three of them were there for the sole purpose of writing their screenplays in front of everyone just so they could brag about the fact that they were writing screenplays. And he would put actual money on it that all three hypothetical screenplays would be full of mansplaining, manic pixie dream girls, and complaints about being straight cis white dudes.

Discreetly rolling his eyes, Dean tapped his foot and hummed Metallica under his breath as he waited for the line to move along. He just barely managed not to roll his eyes when he overheard the douche at the front of the line order some kind of latte with ten pumps of vanilla.

Seriously, who needed ten pumps of vanilla? A douchebag, that's who.

Still humming, he curiously peered over the shoulders of the people in front of him in line at the people bustling around like busy bumblebees behind the counter to see who was working. After months of being a regular, he knew everyone who worked there pretty well, save for a few employees that worked either earlier or later shifts.

He recognized Balthazar, a blonde with a smarmy British accent despite the fact that he claimed to be French, leaning over the top of the bakery display case. He was chatting up two women who seemed to be debating whether or not to order any pastries, gesturing at a plate of chocolate strawberry scones as Balthazar flashed a charming smirk at them.

Kevin, a college student who worked there part-time to help support himself and his mother, was behind the counter making drinks. His shoulders were hunched as he methodically counted out ten pumps of vanilla.

Dean didn't refrain from rolling his eyes that time. He still couldn't wrap his head around the fact the guy had seriously asked for ten pumps.

Gabriel, one of the owners of the coffee shop, was nowhere to be seen which was unusual for the time of day. Gabe usually preferred working after noon, claiming that he enjoyed sleeping in too much to wake up before ten o'clock.

Dean shrugged, not paying any mind to his absence, sure that he was probably out causing mischief somewhere else. The dude was like a leprechaun without the pot of gold, delighting in screwing with people for the hell of it. Dean guessed it was some kind of Napoleon complex thing.

Instead, in Gabriel's usual spot behind the counter, was a dark haired man that Dean had never seen before. His head was down as he rung up the dude that had asked for ten pumps of vanilla so Dean couldn't see his face.

When he looked up to hand Mr. Ten Pumps his change, Dean's breath caught in his throat. The dude was gorgeous.

Even at a distance, he could see that the man had brilliant blue eyes and full pink lips that looked a little chapped. Dean idly wondered if he chewed on them a lot.

His cheeks and jaw were covered in dark stubble, giving him that hint of ruggedness that made him just that much more attractive. His hair, a stygian black, was disheveled and windblown, looking fluffy and soft.

He was wearing the nondescript brown Birds and the Beans apron over a white button up, the sleeves uncuffed and rolled up to the elbow. The rolled up sleeves proudly showcased tattoos on his wiry forearms lightly dusted with dark hair.

There was a colorful burst of flowers on the inside of his left forearm, vivid blues and purples complemented by deep reds and shades of green. The other arm bore a darker landscape of bare trees rising up like dark veins from a thick black band encircling his right wrist.

His white button up was slightly unbuttoned, showing off a hint of collarbone and part of another tattoo that Dean couldn't make out from so far away. He wondered if he had any other tattoos, maybe more colorful ones like the flowers on his arm.

Dean's shameless staring was interrupted by the buzzing of his cell phone in his pocket which tore his focus away from the simultaneously cute and hot barista. Tugging his phone of his pocket, he checked his messages to find a text from Charlie: **_What's taking so long? Sooooo thirsty!_ **

Smiling fondly at his friend's excessive use of the letter o, he sent back a text explaining that there was a long line, promising her one of her favorite cream filled donuts for her patience. She eloquently responded a nanosecond later with several rows of heart emojis, Dean reading her approval of the suggestion loud and clear.

Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he resumed his absentminded humming and refocused his attention on the bakery display case. He hoped there would still be some pies left by the time the garage closed for the day, their caramel honey apple pie with brown sugar streusel was the best thing he had ever eaten. Not that he would ever tell his mother because it would break her heart.

He was so lost in daydreaming about pie that he barely realized that it was his turn to order. The barista's observation was the only thing that pulled his mind away from Pieland as he commented, "Metallica. Sweet Amber, right?"

"Uh, y-yeah..." Dean answered, his words stunted by surprise, having forgotten where he was for a moment. He scratched the back of his neck as he pulled the list he had written out of his back pocket, wincing when he noticed the way that the cute barista's brows raised a fraction when he saw the length of the list. Dean was glad that there was no one behind him in line.

Trying not to look like a complete idiot, Dean glanced down at the list he had written, cursing the sloppiness of it. Stuttering over the excessively long order, he put on a brave face and began, "I need a-a iced, half-caf...ristretto? Uh, venti or large, I guess, since you guys have normal sizes. Four pu—"

"My apologies for interrupting but would this drink happen to be for someone named Sam?" The barista inquired, thankfully cutting Dean off before he could embarrass himself any further, his voice all honey and gravel. It was the sweetest sound Dean had ever heard, downright heavenly if he had to use a word.

Dean glanced up at the barista, valiantly trying not to blush at his surprisingly soothing voice, wondering where all of his suave confidence had gone. Rubbing the back of his neck, he tensed when the barista's words sunk in, very cautiously nodding and confirming, "Um, yeah... How'd you know?"

"He comes in here a few times a week. It's his usual order," the barista explained, a placating smile on his face as he grabbed a twenty ounce to-go cup. Pulling a Sharpie that Dean hadn't noticed in his earlier ogling from out from behind his ear, he wrote Sam's name on the side of it. "Large iced half-caf ristretto, four pump, cinnamon, Dolce soy skinny latte."

"Wow. Impressive," Dean commented with a low whistle, shifting around awkwardly as he tried not to make it obvious how much the barista's voice was affecting him. It was a really nice voice, okay?

Hoping to get through the rest of the list as painlessly as possible for everyone involved, he quickly tumbled through it just as fast as the barista could punch keys on the cash register and scribble names on cups. He felt like a bit of a jerk for having such a long order but the barista seemed to take it in stride, making him wonder if he had taken orders for the guys at the garage before.

They were all pretty regular with their orders which probably made it a little easier. Both Dean and his dad took their coffee black, Bobby and Benny both added a splash of cream and some sugar to theirs, Charlie was a sucker for caramel macchiatos, Garth always requested some variant of weird hippie tea, and of course, Sam took his four pump ristretto monstrosity.

With Charlie's special donut added on, the total came out to just a little over twenty bucks. That was just yet another reason that Dean loved the Birds and the Beans: it was affordable.

He handed over some cash, dropping his change in the little glass jar labeled 'tips' that had little drawings of bees doodled all over it. Waiting patiently, he moved further down the counter, watching as the barista started prepping to-go cups after informing Kevin that they would split the drink making since no one else was in line.

"So, uh..." Dean started, recognizing a chance for some lighthearted flirting when he saw one, trailing off when he realized that he still didn't know the barista's name. Rising up on the tips of his toes, he took a curious peek at the nametag pinned on the barista's apron.

He furrowed his brow when he saw the name he saw laser printed in black: Castiel. What kind of name was that? French?

Anyway, he was reluctant to mispronounce it and look like a jerk so he found a way around it. Setting his hands on the edge of the counter, he looked at the tattoo of flowers on the barista's arm and inquired, "So, Cas, that's a nice tattoo. It's from the Bible or something, right?"

Upon closer inspection, he could see that the colorful flowers, revealed to be a collection of roses and irises and lilies along with various other blooms, provided a stunning backsplash to a banner. Scrawled across it in an elegant black font were the words: _Under his wings you will find refuge_.

Castiel paused, glancing up at Dean with his eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed, probably at the nickname Dean had just given him. Shifting his gaze to the tattoo that graced his own arm, he continued his work, succinctly explaining, "Yes. It's Psalm 91:4."

"Cool," Dean said for lack of anything else to say, pursing his lips and stuffing his hands in his pockets as he waited patiently. Not knowing what else to do, he occupied himself with watching Castiel's hands as he made Charlie's macchiato, watching the familiar way he handled the coffee machines and various other equipment.

His fingers were long and adroit, full of finesse and careful precision, elegance in every movement. He somehow made it look like art as he drizzled caramel sauce on top of the foam. Caramel macchiatos had never looked so good.

Garth's weird, New Age tea was next, this time mango and passion fruit with bits of edible flower petals tossed in because why not? It ended up being a vibrant orange-ish yellow like a tropical sunset, purple petals floating around ice cubes.

He was a little bit disappointed when Castiel started on Sam's drink, informing Dean that his visit would be over soon and he would be going back to work, looking at beat up engines and flat tires instead of the handsome barista in front of him. But all good things had to come to an end at some point, right?

"Balthazar!" Castiel's voice called, breaking Dean out of his thoughts. It also apparently interrupted Balthazar's flirtatious chat with the women still lingering by the display case. "Could you please grab me a cream filled donut? And the bag I told you about earlier?"

"For you, Cassie, anything," Balthazar returned with a wink and a dramatic bow, holding his arms out at his sides. Turning back to the women, he claimed, "Excuse me, my darlings, but duty calls."

He disappeared through the doorway that led to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a brown paper bag in his hand, the top rolled up and secured with a clothespin. Reaching into the display case with a piece of wax paper, he grabbed a donut and slipped it into a small plastic carrying bag.

He carried both over to Castiel them down on the counter before turning on his heel and returning to his conversation with the two women. Castiel quickly finished putting lids on the to-go cups as Kevin carried over the four other coffees, already in a carrier which Dean realized presented a major problem.

Carrying seven drinks in two carriers along with a donut wasn't going to be very easy. He abruptly realized that he should have made Sam go with him, or at the very least driven his car instead of walking.

He chewed his lip as he tried to come up with a solution, figuring that he could probably balance once carrier on top of the other and just walk very slowly and very carefully back to the garage. Just as he was about to veto that plan and come up with a way to make two tips, Castiel turned to Kevin and suggested, "How about you take your half hour and help...Dean, I believe, carry all this back? I'll give you another break in a few hours."

"Really?" Kevin asked, already reaching over to grab one of the carriers. A bright smile stretched across his face. "You're the best, man."

"Oh, and this is for you," Castiel tacked on, handing Dean the paper bag that was heavier than it looked, clearly chock full of something. At Dean's thoroughly confused look, he clarified, "You work at Bobby Singer's garage, correct?—" Dean nodded "—Well, our baker's been experimenting with some new products and we'd like you, and the others at the garage, to be our taste testers. If that's alright."

"Hell yeah, it is," Dean answered automatically. "What is it?"

"Donut holes," Castiel replied. He tipped his head to the side as he listed off flavors. "There's a cinnamon apple caramel, banana bread, and s'mores."

Dean whistled again as he set the paper bag on the carrier Kevin held. Beaming at Castiel, he announced, "You're an angel, Cas."

The blush that lit up Castiel's face had Dean smiling for the rest of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> You can send me prompts [here](http://hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com/)


End file.
